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Daymore
“''Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.” -Marcus Aurelis Emperor of Rome Circa 121-180 AD'' ' ' 'Daymore: ' Once the mightiest nations of men and one of the mightiest in the world, Daymore has since descended into corruption and despair. At one time ruled by noble kings that were said to possess the blood of dragons within them, the line was shattered by a brutal coup instigated by the church of Imperius, god of domination, wealth, and power. A theocracy was put in its place. A weak emperor, little more than a puppet of the church, was installed along with a senate filed with greedy, scheming men. This was not by accident as the end result, each faction fighting the other, keeps unity from occurring and thus control remains in the hands of a very select few from the clergy, the aristocracy, the guilds, the military and others. Those that were willing to accept these new changes and forswear their oaths of loyalty to the line of kings were permitted to remain in the cities. Called “Sovereign Daymorians” they have enjoyed all the luxuries the empire has to offer: advances in science, medicine, and the arts. But the dragon’s blood is not completely purged from these once-proud people. A bloodlust must be sated and so The Kharas, a monstrous coliseum resides within the capital city, Daymore Kharas. Thousands of people from all over the world come to watch gladiators fight and die against beasts, both of the natural world and not, and against each other whether they be orc, troll, human, or halfling. It is said that there has been so much blood spilled upon the sands of the Kharas that the ground has been stained a permanent red and when the rains come, a crimson torrent can be seen draining out of the pits beneath. Those who chose not to surrender their loyalty to the line of kings were banished into the farthest reaches of the kingdom. Called “Provincial Daymorians” by their counterparts, life for them is anything but easy: attacks by evil forces from bandits to wyverns are common; there is little food and even fewer precious resources. The saving grace is that one of the last true kings, King Ramien the builder constructed an elaborate network of roads with fortresses guarding key tactical points to ensure that trade could flow safely. While little trade occurs between cities, only three of the original six remain, these keeps have provided safe haven for those who would make their home beyond the walls of the cities. Unfortunately, as with the other Daymorians, the Provincials are divided into a dizzying web of titles: Knights, Barons, Dukes, and Counts, all scheming to increase their power via the ancient game of politics: the War of Crowns, all in the hopes that the Emperor himself will recognize a nobleman’s particular achievements and invite him to make a place for himself within the senate (despite the sacrifice and defiance of their predecessors). Money better spent on food or supporting the infrastructure is spent on tourneys to boasts one lord’s prosperity over another or to hire mercenaries to wage private wars against each other. And so the sun has set in the west, the men once sworn to protect become corrupt, misguided, and leaderless. But secretly within their hearts, the people of Daymore pray to old gods and the memories of their kings and hope with all their essence for their return. Out of the six original founding cities of the kingdom of Daymore only three remain: the capital, Daymore Kharas, the port city of Daymore Merenia and the besieged city of Daymore Dolorr far to the east with the cursed bog of Carad-thrak within sight and the enemy at their very doorstep. The situation is grim: with the senate and the church in control, they have demanded all available military forces back to defend their cities (and ensure their own safety), leaving the outer provinces completely unprotected. Were it not for the Daymorian knights and leaders that still called this area home, it would have surely fallen. The cities have become horrifically overcrowded and with each piece of gold that is squeezed by the politicians and clergy out of the common populace, poverty and despair run rampant. Daymore has allowed the alliances of old to wither. Instead of allies, they now have trading relations and business partnerships. All foreign relations are now directed towards acquiring more wealth or spreading the influence of their god, Imperius. While they are recognized as still the greatest power in the west, they are no longer respected by the world, nor are they feared. They are perceived to have fallen from grace and become little more than proselytizing bankers. Daymore Kharas is the home to the Hall of the Supreme Throne, the center of worship for Imperius. It is from here that the bulk of Daymorian clerics and paladins hail from. Here too is the Citadel, once known as Dragon’s Fang, now called “The Emperor’s Spear”. It is the single largest fortress in the western hemisphere and the largest martial academy in the world. All manner of warriors and fighters are instructed here. Another institution of note is the College of Music. While not as prestigious as the legendary Tower of Song or Hall of the Eternal Hymn, it is still widely known by the world at large as producing some of the finest bards and minstrels that ever lived as well as the most skilled players in the game of prestation and politics known as the War of Crowns . Something far less known is the fact that many bards from around the world are also trained to be spies and assassins. The College of Music has produced quite a few success stories in these fields as well. There is no formal thieves guild in Daymore Kharas nor is there a mage’s guild. Wizards, Warlocks and other forms of arcane spellcasters are hunted and routed out by the clergy and their red-robbed Inquisitors. The writings of Imperius are absolute: His power is supreme, all others must fall. Any arcane casters that dwell within the capital are either on the (discrete) payroll of someone powerful (clergy, senator, etc.) or as far underground as one can get in the city. Conversely, there are a plethora of temples and churches dedicated to Imperius and his divine servants, making this city the destination of many pilgrimages and the training ground of all manner of priest and paladin. Daymore Merenia, along the southern coast, remains the Daymorian’s largest and most active port. It is more cosmopolitan that most other cities held by Daymore. The powers that reign over the kingdom were forced to concede to a distasteful fact early on: enforcing the religious doctrine of the land is fine for the natives, but attempting to do so upon those who come from other lands is futile and worse, financially calamitous. And so, the grip of the clergy is not quite as all-consuming. The political machinations of the senate and the church are far from here and so there’s some respite from the constant scheming and treachery that riddles the capital. The docks of Daymore Merenia are enormous and considered a wonder to behold: countless ships with thousands of people swarming over them, yelling out instructions and orders in dozens of languages. Every hour a fortune’s worth of goods and cargo are loaded and unloaded in a (barely) controlled chaos. Overhead there is a spider web of rigging and freight lines criss-crossing so densely that it can blot out the sun in places. One of the most prolific imports of Merenia is in flesh: specifically slaves and, arguably more importantly, mercenaries. Every man or woman with a sword in their hand, a vacancy in their stomach and an empty purse can find a cot and a contract within 24 hours. Scum, scalawags, bounty hunters, slavers, they all come here to ply their trade and sell their skills. The local thieves guild, known as simply as the Scarlet Lions (a takeoff popular Daymorian heraldry using lion iconography as well as a nod to the phrase “a den of thieves”) run a tight ship and try to keep things orderly: they don’t kill people, they evade rather than attack guards, and though paying protection to them is costly, said individual or business ''will ''be protected, with lethal force, if deemed necessary. Unfortunately, they are locked in a power struggle with the assassin’s guild, Sea of Knives, and the slaver’s guild, Chains of Salt also known as “Salties” (their current guildmaster, Viisq is a member of the reptilian Morgai race and it was commented upon that he resembled a Saltwater Crocodile. {Viisq then proceeded to eat the person who made the comment}). The Salties have ties to the Royal Elf slavers, the Emerald Chainmen while there are whispers that the Knives have ties with the body snatchers from Icxithia. The Lions are struggling to hold onto their territory, but they believe in the “old traditions” “Honor amongst thieves”, and this is a philosophy (or weakness depending on who’s asking) that the murderous Knives and rapacious Salties do not share and so all three organizations are desperate for as much talent as they can get their hands on. Seasoned veterans command a high price whether they fought on battlefields or back alleys. Several gods have interests that align or coincide with the interest of one or more of these organizations and so for clerics, it’s a seller’s market. There is also a strong market for arcane casters, mostly those fleeing the Inquisitors and their torments from other Daymorian settlements. Daymore Dolorr is a ruin of a great city: devastated by the war with the Nevaraakese. It is a broken place, filled with wounded people. Out of the three remaining enclaves of Daymorian power, this is the one closest to the brink of destruction, it is also, strangely, the most liberal, the most tolerant and perhaps the one most likely to give rise to Daymore’s redemption. The church of traditional Imperius church has little power, its ecclesiastical presence here declared heresy and excommunicated for preaching tolerance, balance, and more focus placed on fighting the forces of darkness and evil as opposed to each other. All followers of Imperius crave power, what separates the “Eastern Heresy” as they are called by the Orthodox Church in the west; believe that power should not be an end, but a means to an end, something greater. As the citizens of Daymore Dolorr huddle together in the dark, praying for hope, for salvation, of hope and to finally be free of the darkness, both beyond the walls and that which has taken root within the heart of their once great kingdom. Brave individuals of every race and creed come here to “fight the good fight” as one elvish paladin put it. All are welcomed indeed with open arms usually. Cigany caravans are granted entrance if possible, escaped slaves and those fleeing religious persecution, including those on the run from the clergy of Imperius,are granted sanctuary. The sick are healed, the wounded tended to as best as can be. But the cost is high: from east, the forces of Nevaraak still lurk and though Carad-Thraak is as much a bane to them as it is to the Daymorians, agents of the Demon Sun manage to infiltrate the city and spread chaos and despair. Perhaps the greatest threat is not from the east, but the west. The church of Imperius has declared all clergy members in Daymore Dolorr heretics and they face persecution and even death at the hands of their fellow priests and the Inquisition. The Hierophant, leader of the Imperius church excommunicated those clerics that would not conform and return to the capital. Soon, it is whispered by court bards and church confessors, his Holiness will call for a crusade to extinguish the “flame in the east” as it has been called by those who secretly support them. Everyone is needed here: wild-men, rangers, spies, knights, paladins, wizards, assassins; all manner of devout folk whether they worship the gods, nature, or their own ethos are permitted. Even warlocks are granted entry so long as their insanity has not reached dangerous proportions and they are under the care of someone. All one needs to do is support good, or simply oppose the forces that are waging war on the city and her people. Gold, glory, honor, duty, self-interest, or just an intense desire to piss off the church as well the Nevaraakese and their minions, everyone who comes here does so believing in something and the fact that they are allowed to believe different things from those in power and from each other may be what transforms a city of refugees and rubble into the last bastion of virtue and justice in the west.